Out Of Time
by Princess Pinky
Summary: It's harder than you think, being two people out of time.


**A/N: **It occurred to me the other night how much these two have in common. This is the first time I've written for either of these characters.

_**Out Of Time**_

The morning rush had cleared out of Café Diem about twenty minutes ago and roughly five minutes later, Vincent had served him his usual plate of steak and eggs. Allison had warned him of high cholesterol, but cholesterol be damned! He was willing to give up smoking because the pictures of smoky lungs that she'd showed him admittedly creeped him out, but there was no way he was giving up his beloved steak and eggs.

A few people were still sprinkled throughout the café, but most of them were on the outskirts of the room. If he tried, he could see them in his peripheral, but he could just as easily block them out because the regulars who were left didn't make that much noise - which was why he liked Café Diem at this hour - and he could concentrate on other things, namely the novel he was currently reading.

It wasn't _his_ novel, not the one with the pages so worn into softness they felt like silk and the corners of the cover that had been rounded from the generations of Grant family use, which was still at home in 1947. It was just a library rental, which Kevin had lent him his card to get, so when he set the binding between his fingers - thumb and pinky in front and three fingers in back - it didn't have the familiar comfortablity that it should. But it was still a little piece of his old life, like his eggs and steak, which he refused to give up.

"_The Time Machine_."

He tilted his head back. The voice was female and English; _proper_. As his head leaned back, he saw a tall brunette standing over him, with a clean row of white teeth and a smile that made him feel strangely, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why. "Yes," he agreed with a nod. "A timeless fantasy, if I should say so." He studied her face as the corner of her lifted to reveal a dimple on her left cheek. "Care to have a seat?"

The woman pulled back the chair and slid into the seat across from him. She folded her hands neatly, one over the other, and stared at him with a puncturing gaze.

"I don't believe I've seen you around here before," he commented curiously. He still held the book between his fingers, but his attention was focused on the new stranger. "It's a small town. Are you-"

"Just passing through."

He smiled and extended his hand. "Dr. Tre-" he interrupted himself with a well placed cough "-_Charles. _Charles Grant."

Her serpentine fingers wound around his as she accepted his hand. "Helena." she replied neatly.

"Just Helena?"

Helena shifted her penetrating eyes towards the copy of the book in his left hand. "Helena Wells."

"Wells, 'eh?" Dr. Grant chuckled. He waved the book over his plate. "Any relation?" he asked jokingly.

"You never know," Helena replied slyly. Her eyes glinted a bit.

"Are you a fan?"

"Let's just say I know the novel by heart."

"Hmm." He stabbed a bite of steak on his fork and slid it between his teeth. He chewed, closed mouth and gentlemanly, then wiped the corner of his lips with his napkin after swallowing. "My grandfather used to read this to me as a child," he explained softly. "I was entranced by every chapter, every night. The possibility of _time travel!_" he shook his head reminiscently. "I guess you could say this story paved the way to what I do today; who I am."

"And who are you?" Helena asked, with a coy tilt of her head. She lifted her elongated arm and eloquently propped it on the table, flexed her loose fingers, and propped her chin above them.

"I am…" he expended a long breath and looked down to his steak and eggs, then to the book in his hands. "I guess you could say I am out of time." He quickly laughed. "I just, don't belong here. It's not my era."

Helena nodded quietly. "I know the feeling." She tapped her folded fingertips across her knuckles. "Being in a new and foreign place only has its thrills for so long."

"Been out of the country for a while then, have you?"

"Excuse me?"

"England," Dr. Grant clarified. "You are talking about being across the pond, aren't you?"

Helena smiled bitter sweetly. "Something like that." She reached her hand to the curve of her neck and rubbed it slightly. "Tell me, Charles, do you think Wells has any merit?"

The book teetered between his fingers. "About…time travel?" At Helena's nod, he quickly closed the book and eyed the title on the cover. "Speaking as a man of science, I couldn't speak on Wells. But Einstein on the other hand…" he smiled lightly. "With the technological achievements over time, who really has the authority to say what is and isn't possible these days anyway, right?"

Helena fingered the locket around her neck as she watched Dr. Grant take another stab at his plate. As he reached for a swig of orange juice, she slid the leather bag she was carrying on her right shoulder down her arm and reached inside.

He wiped his mouth again and folded the paper napkin out of habit. "So how long will you be in town?" he wondered as he eyed her bag with interest. Helena had been the first woman in Eureka that he'd found himself intrigued by since Allison and if he was honest with himself, he even thought that Helena might take the trophy for most mysterious, and not only because he'd just met her.

Helena lifted her eyes. "Well, actually-"

Her words were lost in the sound of a plundering explosion from outside. The shockwaves were so strong that they shook the café beneath their feet and even worse, the table, causing his glass of orange juice to tip and spill all over the library copy of _The Time Machine_. But even as his mind registered the desecration of the cover, he didn't have time to dwell on it right then, because he could see smoke from the open door, where the remaining patrons of the café were already beginning to crowd. "What on Earth…" he jumped to his feet and moved towards the growing crowd, with Helena at his side.

Dr. Grant wormed his way through the crowd as they began to crowd out the door for a closer look and as he reached the archway himself, he realized smoke was filtering from the direction of Global Dynamics. His dark eyebrows knitted together in concern. "I'm sorry, but I have to-" He stopped suddenly as he realized that Helena was nowhere in sight. He leaned forward to peer into the crowd, but the lanky brunette didn't stand out among them. With a little drop in his gut, he turned to see Vincent standing behind the counter, covered in remnants of a peach colored smoothie and scowling. "Have you seen-"

"I can't believe this!" Vincent ranted as he stomped around the counter and towards the door. "Who is responsible for this? I'll kill him!"

"Alright then…" Dr. Grant murmured as he made his way back to his table. His plate was empty and the book with the orange juice spilt on it was gone, but a small rectangular package with tissue paper was lying on the spot in front of Helena's vacated chair. As he leaned in closer, he noticed the a white napkin had been folded on top of the package, with the name _Dr. Grant_ scrawled across it.

Like a curious cat, he pushed the note aside and began to peel back the tissue paper like layers of cotton candy. When he reached the center, he found a seemingly pristine cover novel titled, _The Time Machine_. He turned the book over in his hands. It looked as though it had just been published five minutes ago. Then as he pulled back the cover, he realized there was an inscription inside: _"'From one inventor out of time to another, enjoy. Timelessly, H. G. Wells.'"_


End file.
